


dizzy

by rmaowl



Series: january [30]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Anxiety, Caring Logic | Logan Sanders, Control, Control Issues, Conversations, Crying, Death, Eating Disorders, Everyone Has Issues, Everything Hurts, Exhaustion, Food, Food Issues, Gen, Headspace, Healing, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Lies, Logic | Logan Sanders Being an Asshole, Loss of Control, Men Crying, Mental Health Issues, Morality | Patton Sanders Cooks, Morality | Patton Sanders Tries, Morality | Patton Sanders is a Good Friend, Pain, Pasta, Poison, Protective Morality | Patton Sanders, Recovery, Self-Destruction, Self-Hatred, Suffering, Tears, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 15:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17604140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rmaowl/pseuds/rmaowl
Summary: It's frustrating, the increased amount of concern suddenly directed towards Virgil; it feels like there's too much light being shed on all his problems at once.





	dizzy

Virgil's excuse to himself is this: he's a Side, therefore he doesn't need to eat. It's detrimental to his own health, sure, but Thomas is self-sustainable in that respect. Whatever food he eats in the corporeal world counts, unlike whatever they choose to eat in his headspace. It doesn't harm their host, which is the most important thing.

Besides, the ache in Virgil's stomach feels like control. It feels like a reprieve from the anxiety (which he feels anyway, constantly thinking _is this meal safe_ or _is this dish poisoned_ or _are they going to hurt me_ ). He applies paler foundation and darker eyeshadow and he looks _sick._

He doesn't know how to feel about that, other than a morbid sort of satisfaction; now, he looks like the monster that he's supposed to be.

The other Sides, even the supposed Dark ones, catch on quickly. Thomas does as well. It's frustrating, the increased amount of concern suddenly directed towards him; it feels like there's too much light being shed on all his problems at once. He's fine, really.

It's not like a Side can die. It can feel pain, it can Fade, it can duck out, but it can't die.

Virgil refuses to share his thoughts on that.

* * *

When Virgil wakes, he's not feeling too great. He's woozy, dizzy, trying his best not to trip over his own feet. His inept stumbling is noticed by all three of the Sides currently residing in the kitchen. Patton steps forward, gently clasping his hands, guiding him towards a chair. His brow remains furrowed with worry the entire time. Logan and Roman are mere onlookers of the spectacle, but Virgil tenses at the waves of anxiety he can feel emanating from them.

"Just a little dizzy," Virgil explains shortly. It's a half-truth. Patton's frown deepens.

"Well... we're having spaghetti," he offers gently, an olive branch. His eyes shimmer. "I know you're tired, kiddo, but sleeping until dinner time is a bit extensive, don't you think?" The halfhearted laugh that slips through Patton's lips is painful to hear, lacking in his typical sunniness. Virgil bites back a litany of apologies.

"I'm trying," he says instead. That causes a sharp, incredulous look on Logan's face, obviously doubtful. It's covered up in a second, but Virgil sees it. He sees what it asks.

_Are you, Virgil? Are you trying?_

He doesn't know.

He doesn't know why they care so much, either. This isn't something that harms them. This is safe. This is fine.

Patton leaves his fixed position at Virgil's side to strain the pot of pasta, water plashing into the sink. The sound it makes is like a pitiful waterfall.

Soon, the spaghetti is plated and served. After taking a singular bite, Roman begins to compliment Patton extravagantly, to which Patton replies, "aw, shucks, kiddo. I'm just doin' my job! A boy needs his father."

Virgil wants nothing more than to sink into nothingness. His knees are pulled up to his chest. He's halfway to being a ball. He toys with his food, spinning the noodles around his fork, gathering them in one place. He cuts them to bits with the side of the utensil, metal clattering against porcelain. He distracts himself in any way possible.

"Are you going to eat, Virgil?" Logan speaks suddenly. His tone isn't accusatory or judgmental, but it's a forced calm. It gives Virgil pause. He bites his lip.

It’s unlikely. Why would he?

“This isn’t a matter that requires extensive consideration,” Roman says. His eyes are trained on Virgil. The attentiveness is uncomfortable. “Are you or aren’t you?”

“I don’t _want_ to,” Virgil divulges, feeling incredibly pressured. It’s not a direct answer to the question, but it’s enough to make Patton stifle a tearful gasp. Fuck. Virgil, he’s, he’s— he’s _awful._ How could he _do this_ to them?

He curls into himself further.

“It’s— kiddo, we”—Patton struggles to get a grip on his rampant emotions—“we care about you, okay? We don’t want you hurting.”

“Indeed,” Logan agrees solemnly, nodding.

Roman remains silent. That hurts, up until Virgil glances up and realizes that he’s _crying._

Roman. Princey. The one who throws insults at him, the one who gets his insults obligingly returned.

His face is red. Fat teardrops spill down his flushed cheeks, messy and chaotic. He struggles silently for sufficient air. His hands wipe away at the wetness on his face, but the heated tears refuse to stop.

“Ro,” Virgil says, aching. He’s never adopted the nickname before, despite the others’ usage of it. But now— _now—_

“ _Virge,_ ” Roman sobs out, insistent. “You— you bumbling _idiot—_ ”

It’s an emotionally exhausting day.

It ends with Logan researching endlessly, letting go of his anger at the illogicality of it all. Virgil catches sight of vile words like _eating disorder_ and _recovery_ and _safe food._ It rubs him the wrong way, but it’s fine. He’s working through it.

It ends with Patton constantly reassuring him. “I’m always going to be here for you, kiddo, okay? You could _never_ scare me off, _never_ get rid of me—”

It ends with a mess of tears and confessions on Roman’s part. “I never hated you, I tried so hard—”

It ends with a hug. It ends with feeling Virgil’s jutting ribs underneath his hoodie. It ends with Virgil’s bony cheek against the crook of Patton’s neck.

It’s going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> three noun prompt: patience, sun, pasta  
> dialogue prompt: “a boy needs his father!”


End file.
